


A Second Chance To Not Fuck Shit Up

by justme133



Category: Shameless - Fandom, Shameless US - Fandom
Genre: Gallavich, M/M, Rated T for language, Time Travel, before he got all weird, mickey wants to make things better, season 3 ian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justme133/pseuds/justme133
Summary: When Mickey somehow finds himself back in 2013, with all the knowledge of the past 5 years, can he keep him and Ian together without getting killed?





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Mickey noticed when he woke up was he wasn't in Mexico anymore. He wasn't in the dirty room he rented from a deaf woman who stared at his ass every time he walked around.

He was in his house. The Milkovich house.

What the fuck was he doing here?

He reached for his phone, which wasn’t quite the phone he remembered having, but it looked like the one he did have back in - whenever the fuck it was. Fucking years ago, Mickey knew that. Either way, he reached for it and dropped it when he saw the date on it. The year jumped at him and slapped him in the face.

2013.

How the fuck was it 2013? 

It was 2018. No fucking way in hell was he back in 2013. He scooted up in the bed and finally looked at his hands. His tattoos were still there, so he was still him and he’d still FUCK-U-UP, okay, good, he had that ground to hold on to.

On shaky legs, MIckey got up and looked around the room. It was like he had it all those years ago when he had to hide who he was…

OH SHIT. Mickey knew, if he was back in 2013, however the hell that had happened, he would have to hide again.

That also meant…

No Ian. 

He couldn’t think about Gallagher right now. He had to figure out if this was some dream or if this was reality. He moved into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror, taking note that it wasn’t cracked. He hadn’t broken it yet. 

He remembered that pain though, the glass slicing through his hand, after Ian left…

Ian hadn’t left yet though, had he?

No, Mickey had to get his shit together before he could go hunt down some 17 year old guy that was his half-boyfriend at the time.

He looked at his face, and he hated what he saw, because it just confirmed what he knew had happened. His face was younger, his cheeks rounder. There was a cut on his cheek and forehead, and he remembered those. His dad. His dad had found them. They had already had their sleepover. His hell would start soon. Svetlana would soon tell his dad she was pregnant. And then....

Ian would leave him.

And then he would enter his own hell.

Unless….

Mickey was different now. He wasn’t that same asshole who had to hide anymore. He knew what he wanted, and that he was in love with Ian fucking Gallagher. He had to do this. 

He couldn’t fuck this up again.

He could make it right. He couldn’t go to jail. He could make sure Ian got the meds before he got sick. He could…

He didn’t have to get married.

He’d never see Yev again, and that hurt a bit, but Svetlana took the kid away in the end anyway. She had been reasonable to a point, so maybe he could talk some sense into her.

He had to try.

And then, maybe he couldn’t tell Ian that he knew this shit because he was from the fucking future, but maybe he could make this a little better, if not for himself, then for the guy he fucking loved.

....

First, he got dressed and snuck out of the house. He saw Terry passed out on the couch, and Mickey really wanted to put a bullet in his head, and just be done, but no, that would be jail again, and he didn’t want that right now. He peeked in Mandy’s room and found her fast asleep, and he was glad to see her looking like herself. Maybe he could help her too. If he didn’t get married, she wouldn’t meet Kenyetta.

He kept that in mind as he went down to the massage parlour Svetlana worked at.

“Yo, dickbag, I need to see Svetlana.” The guy at the front desk made to jump at him, but she came out of a side room and saw him.

“You. I was to call soon,” she said as she walked towards him, and he bit his lip and nodded.

“Yeah, I need to talk to you too. Now.”

“We talk in here. I take no clients now,” she said to the man at the desk and led Mickey behind her. He was quiet as she shut the door and turned to him. “I have baby. You are father. I no unprotected with other men.”

“No shit,” Mickey muttered, remembering he needed to be surprised. “Let me tell you something. I’m gay,” he said, the words coming out easily - why hadn’t it always been this easy?. “I don’t want… I don’t want marriage or any of that shit. I’m 18. I will send you money, I will help with the kid if you want, but you can’t tell Terry you are pregnant with my kid. K?”

“Orange boy?” she asked, remembering the scared look on both their faces when she had entered the room.

“Yeah, orange boy.” She nodded and looked at him.

“You help with baby?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I no tell Terry you father.”

Mickey’s shoulders sagged with relief and he nodded. One bullet dodged. Now, he had to talk to Mandy.

…

He crept back into his house, Terry still passed out on the couch. Good, he hoped he’d stay that way a little longer. Mandy was awake, there was quiet music coming from her room, and he knocked on her door.

“Since when did you knock, Assface?” Mandy asked when she opened the door. Mickey shoved his way in and looked at his sister. It was good to see her like this, he had missed her. He had to talk to her though. He had to make shit right. He had a feeling that’s what he was here for.

“Gotta talk to you.”

“So?” Mandy asked, sitting back on her bed and looking at him, face bored.

“Mandy, I want to talk to you about so much.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. She had never seen MIckey so serious.

“So much. Okay. Here goes. First off, you can do so much better than that fuckwad Lip. And if you ever meet some big black guy named Kenyatta, just walk the other way. I heard bad shit about him. I mean it Mandy,” he said, eyes boring into hers. She nodded and he kept going. “And, while I’m on this spree of spewing out shit, I’ve been fucking Ian for the past three years, dad caught us a bit ago, and beat the shit out of us before he had some Russian whore rape me. She’s pregnant but has agreed to not tell dad, thank the fucking fucks for that. I’m gonna help out with the kid, but that’s all. Oh! I’m in love with Gallagher too. I gotta tell him that though. Fuckhead doesn’t know that. Well he does but I haven’t said it so shits kind of all messed up right now.”

He looked at Mandy to see her staring at him with her mouth open and eyes wide.

“Oh yeah I’m gay.”

“Holy shit. Where’s Mickey and what have you done with him?” Mandy asked, staring at him.

“Trust me, you have no idea,” Mickey said, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go talk to Gallagher.”

Mandy just nodded again and watched Mickey leave, still in shock from his confessions.

…

Mickey had asked Ian to meet him at the abandoned building, and Mickey couldn’t believe all the shit that had gone on between them. He knew he was about to see Ian as he used to be, before the sickness took over and fucked with his head, before everything fucked with him, and fuck, Mickey missed this Ian, sure, but he also knew that he had to do this. He could make things better for them.

No jail, no wife, no kid, no Terry. Just them.

Fuck, Mickey could do this.

All he could think of was the last few years of his life, of Ian running off to the Army, the clubs, the old men rubbing up on him, the sickness taking over his brain, and how Mickey had to bring him back, how they had to work up to each other….

He could skip all of the uncomfortable feelings because he had already had it. He might be 18 again, but he could be with Ian the way they should’ve been in the beginning.

“Hey, I hadn’t heard from you in a while. Thought your dad had gotten to you again,” Ian said as he walked up to him, and Mickey could only think how lucky he was that he could do this over again, that Ian was here, and yeah, there was some scratches on his face, but nothing he couldn’t take care of.

“Yeah, had some shit to do. I’m good,” he mumbled, thumbing at his bottom lip. This Mickey didn’t kiss Ian, didn’t hug or hold hands, but fuck, that’s all Mickey wanted. He just wanted to bundle that stupid kid into a hug and never let go. “Oh fuck it,” he muttered, grabbing Ian by the front of his jacket and pulling him down to kiss him. Ian was surprised but melted into the kiss as Mickey wrapped his arms around him and made sure to keep him close by until they both needed to breath.

Ian rested his forehead against Mickey’s, ready for him to punch him and run away, but Mickey didn’t move, his eyes closed as he took deep breaths.

“What brought that on?”

“I love you,” Mickey said, eyes closed still. Ian grinned, that big goofy grin that spread across his face and made him look like a dork but he didn’t care as he tilted Mickey’s face towards his and he opened his eyes. What he saw shook him. Mickey’s eyes looked older, much older than Ian had ever seen them, and he knew something had changed, but he couldn’t pinpoint it, and he didn’t know if he wanted to.

“I love you too,” Ian said, and Mickey smirked at him before he stepped away.  “What’s going on?”

“I gotta tell Terry. I gotta face that demon. He’s gonna fucking try to kill me.”   
  


“Mickey no-”   
  


“Ian. Listen to me. This is something I have to do. For you. For us. Okay? Fuck, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want this okay? So shut the fuck up and listen to me for once okay?” Ian nodded, and he could see that look in MIckey’s eyes, the one that made him think that Mickey knew more than he was letting on, but he let it go. Mickey was here, with him.

_ MIckey loved him. _

“Let me go with you.”

“No. I’ve seen- I don’t want him to hurt you more than he already has,” Mickey said, and he knew he was being much more caring than his 18 year old self had ever been, but fuck it, he had to do this.

“Mick what’s going on?”

Mickey took his face and kissed his forehead gently, and this Mickey was all Ian ever wanted, but fuck, he was so confused. 

“MIck?”   
  


“I wish I could explain. Just know, I love you. I won’t let things fuck us up this time.”

“This time? Mick what is going on? Talk to me!”

“Fuck! Okay you want the fucking truth? You’re not gonna fucking believe it, but here you go Gallagher. I’m from fucking 2018. I’ve recently been on the run in fucking Mexico for attempting to kill your half-sister, although I didn’t mean to kill her, I meant to torture, but what the fuck ever, okay? She sent your ass to Army prison, so I wanted to get her back. And the only reason you were even wanted at Army prison was because of my ass making you run off because of a bunch of shit, and you joined the fucking Army because I couldn’t make you stay, and I fucking wanted you to stay, and you ended up working as some boy-toy for old fucks at a gay club because you weren’t on your fucking meds, and right now you don’t even need fucking meds because I haven’t triggered you yet by making you run off and if you don’t run off maybe you don’t get triggered which would be kickass but I know that’s a part of you and shit, I just want to be with you, and this is my chance. I came out to Terry once, and it almost fucking killed the both of us. I don’t give a shit about doing it again, but fuck all if you’re getting hurt because of that ass.”

Mickey was taking deep breaths after he spouted all that out, and Ian just stared at him.

“Okay,” Ian finally said, looking at his boyfriend - could he call him that now? Yeah, he could he guessed. “But I want to be there when you tell your dad. I don’t give a shit if I get hurt or not. We can pack a bag of your shit, get it to my place, and then tell him.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Okay. You wanna fucking get beat to a bloody pulp, then fine by me. I don’t give a shit.”

“Nah, you kinda do. You love me,” Ian said in a teasing voice. Mickey rolled his eyes and pushed him. 

“Yeah yeah yeah just be lucky it took me this long to admit it the ol’ 18 year old me would have just kicked your ass and left you here.”

Ian grinned and when he slung an arm around Mickey’s shoulders, he didn’t get pushed away. This Mickey was different, but good different. Ian could get used to it.

He’d ask about the future thing later.

…


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets to come out to his dad... again.

Ian watched Mickey as they walked together - he had to admit, this Mickey was all he wanted in life. His boyfriend, who wanted to be with him, who didn’t want to hide anymore.

 

But what had happened to him to make him this way? Just a month ago, Mickey was being beaten by his father and forced to have sex with a woman right in front of him.

 

Now, he was telling him he loved him, and he was going to tell Terry…

 

This was all he had wanted, and it kind of scared him to think that Mickey finally wanted it too.

 

It made his head hurt, made it race with thoughts he couldn’t control. He had to shake his head to get it to calm down. When that didn’t work, Ian knew there was one way to make it shut up.

 

And so, Ian just shoved Mickey against the closest wall and kissed him, his mouth hot and heavy against his own as Mickey’s hands fisted in Ian’s shirt. Ian thought he was going to push him away, like he had so many times before, but no, Mickey pulled him closer, seeming to breath Ian in as his lips met his in an almost angry kiss.

 

It cleared Ian’s head, and made him realize that they were kissing, in public.

 

“Fuck,” he whispered as he pulled away, resting his forehead against Mickey’s. “We’re in public.” 

 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Mickey muttered, eyes meeting Ian’s. Ian grinned and kissed him again, the raging in his head finally stopping.

 

…

 

Ian followed Mickey as they walked to his house. He had texted Mandy, who had stuffed a bag of Mickey’s stuff into the back trash can.

 

His plan was to tell his dad, fight for his life, and run.

 

And Mickey may have made Mandy promise to make sure Ian was okay when Terry went batshit crazy, and that she got herself as far away from the house as she could.

 

It wasn’t bad to have a little back up when you knew what shit was going to go down.

 

…

 

Terry was smoking a cigarette when they walked in, Ian with his family’s killing bat in his hands. He had a strong sense of deja-vu to the first time he had come into the house with a tire iron.

 

“What the fuck are you doing with that fag?” Terry spit, burping around his cigarette as he watched Mickey. “I thought I got that fag shit fucked out of you. Or do I need to call the Russian again?”

 

Ian could’ve sworn his vision was going red as his hands tightened around the bat. But Mickey hadn’t moved yet, so Ian waited.

 

“Fuck you,” Mickey said, kicking the table out of the way - less objects for his dad to get to, the better. “I’m fucking gay. A big ol’ mo. So Fuck. You.”

 

Terry sat there, his eyes steely as he stared at his youngest son, before he finally moved.

 

For a man so bulky, Ian didn’t think he could move that fast, but he did. In one moment he had been sitting, and the next he had Mickey’s throat in his hand, cutting off his air supply.

 

Ian was about to charge when suddenly Mickey’s leg went up, and his dad went down.

 

“Get out of here Gallagher! Go!’

 

“But Mick-”

 

“Go Ian. I got this,” Mickey got out as his dad lunged for him. Ian watched long enough to see Mickey slam his dad into the wall before he felt himself tugged to the side and a slim body step in front of him.

 

Then a gunshot rung out, making everyone in the room stop.

 

Mickey’s face was bloody from where his dad’s fist had connected with it, but his dad was beginning to sport two black eyes, so Mickey had got a couple good shots in.

 

But everything stopped as they turned to look at Mandy, who had a gun in her hand, raised in the air.

 

“Let Mickey go,” she said, pointing the gun directly at her father.

 

“Mandy, don’t let those fags turn you against your own father.”

 

“They didn’t. You did.”

 

With that, Mandy aimed the gun at her dad and pulled the trigger.

 

…

  
  


When the police came, Mickey and Ian were sitting outside, Ian holding a cloth to Mickey’s bleeding nose.

 

“Think I broke a fucking tooth,” Mickey mumbled as they talked to Mandy, him and Ian watching her.

 

“He was attacking my brother. I just shot him in the fucking leg. Self defense,” she told the cop. He nodded and wrote down something as they wheeled their dad out.

 

“Fucking fags! Fucking whore! When I get out of the hospital, I’m killing all you.”

 

“You won’t be going anywhere Mr. Milkovich except back to prison,” one cop told him as he began to rant again. They just closed the ambulance doors and drove off, leaving the 3 teens sitting on the stoop of the bloody, empty Milkovich house.

 

…

 

Ian stared at Mickey, who was asleep in his bed. 

 

His bed. At the Gallagher house.

 

He saw the scars on his face from past fights, the new cuts that Mickey’s own father had given him, and honestly didn’t think he could look any better. Ian felt like his head was spinning again, but he pushed it off and went downstairs, where Mandy was eating a bowl of cereal, Fiona staring her down.

 

Ian just ignored his sister and set up a bundle of blankets and pillows in the nook under the staircase for Mandy to sleep.

 

“It’s not the best,” Ian said as Mandy smiled tiredly at him, “but until I can get the basement set up, this is better than being on the couch were Carl can stare at you.”

 

“Thanks Ian,” Mandy said, slipping into the nook and letting him close the little curtain on her so she could have some privacy. He turned to find Fiona giving him her trademark ‘what the fuck’ glare, so he just pulled her towards the kitchen and away from where Mandy was getting ready to sleep.

 

“You wanna tell me why the fuck Mandy Milkovich is sleeping under my stairs?”

 

“And why the fuck Mickey Milkovich is sleeping in your bed?” Lip asked, interrupting them.

 

“ _ Mickey Milkovich is in your fucking bed?” _ Fiona asked, and Ian knew by the way her voice was lilting that she was close to getting full-Fiona angry, and he didn’t need that.

 

“You wanna know what the fuck is going on?” Mickey grumbled, walking into the kitchen to see them ganging up on Ian. “I’m dating your fucking brother. My dad tried to kill me and my fucking sister. So we’re staying here for now. You guys got a fucking problem with that?”

 

The Gallaghers knew better than to mess with a Milkovich, especially one that was fucking their younger brother.

 

“Now, if you fuckers don’t mind, I’ve a hell of a fucking day, and I wanna go to sleep with my fucking boyfriend.”

 

With that, Mickey grabbed Ian by the hand and pulled him towards the stairs, only to stop and turn to Lip

 

“If you mess with my fucking sister anymore, I will fucking hurt you. I won’t kill you, because of fucking Ian. But you won’t be able to use your fucking dick anymore.”

 

Lip raised his hands in surrender, glaring at Ian who looked like he wanted to laugh at the fact that  _ his fucking boyfriend _ just threatened his brother.

 

With that said, Mickey dragged Ian’s ass upstairs.

 

“You, into the bed. I’ve traveled time and got beat up,  _ again _ , for your ass. I need to fucking sleep.”

 

Ian wondered about that time travel comment again but ignored it as Mickey flopped down into his bed. He wanted to maybe put an arm over him, because Ian was always kind of a cuddler, but he knew Mickey wasn’t.

 

“Get your ass over here,” Mickey mumbled, already almost asleep as he pulled Ian’s arm over him. “Stop fucking thinking don’t need your brain fucking up my sleep.”

 

Ian found himself falling asleep, the feel of Mickey’s body next to his exactly what he needed.

 

…

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'll let ya'll be the judges - do you wanna see more? See me delve into Ian's disorder, see them struggle to be together...
> 
> Or just let it end here? 
> 
> Ya'll decide.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning to delve into Ian's illness. How can Mickey handle it now that he knows what to expect?

They lived in peace - or as much peace as you can get in the Gallagher house - for about a week. Frank gave them hell, but then Mickey choked him until he passed out - considering this was easy, with Frank already being half-drunk at 8 in the morning - he didn’t bother them again. The rest of the Gallagher’s? They just kind of let it settle - Mickey Milkovich was part of them now, and apparently screwing their brother.

 

It took a little bit for that part to set in.

 

Carl took it the hardest - Mickey, this badass punk dude who stole shit and beat up people, was gay. But then again, so was his brother Ian - this tough, Army, ‘i-have-a-special-knife-to-kill-people-with’ guy, was also gay. So maybe Carl just needed to shut up for once.

 

That week ended quickly though when Ian announced he was going away for ROTC training one weekend.

 

All Mickey could see was that same excuse, and then Ian running off to join the Army - but things didn’t happen that way this time, right? Mickey was fucking  _ here _ . And he was  _ with fucking Ian. _

 

But all he could see was Ian leaving, and returning fucked up on all those drugs, and then getting sick....

 

“Like fuck you’re going.” Okay, not the best thing to say to your boyfriend, but it’s a start.

 

“Mick, it’s just one weekend,” Ian said as he packed a large duffel full of clothes. “I’ll be back Sunday night.”

 

“It’s not that Firecrotch,” Mickey said, rubbing a hand over his face - how could he tell Ian that this scenario had played out, much differently, before? “I just…. I really don’t think you should fucking go.”

 

“Why the fuck not? You’ve never given a shit before.” 

 

Okay, now Mickey was getting mad.

 

“You know what, fine, fucking go. Get all fucked up in the head. See if I fucking care,” he mumbled, falling onto his back, one arm covering his eyes.

 

That made Ian pause - because Mickey did care - this Mickey did. He sighed and sat down.

 

“What’s gonna happen to me?”

 

“Fuck if I know. Just don’t fuck anyone else while you’re there,” Mickey said, one blue eye finding Ian’s. Ian smiled and shook his head.

 

“We’re fucking living together Mick - I’m not going to go whore myself out. Boyfriends, right?”

 

“Fuck you that sounds so faggy - and yes, but that didn’t…. Fuck it, nevermind. Go do your fucking weekend. I’ll be here, sleeping or shooting things. We’ll see how the weekend plays out for me.”

 

Ian laughed and leaned over, kissing Mickey, who kissed back before he pulled away and pushed Ian. 

 

“Fucking go Army. Just… be careful, okay?”

 

“Love you Mick.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you too. Now fucking go, you fucking sap.”

 

…

 

Ian was having a good weekend - he was one of the top trainees in his course. They were at an old base two hours away, and he was doing pretty well.

 

Except for his head.

 

His head was… well, Ian didn’t know how to explain it. He felt like he had all the energy in the fucking world, but then his brain just kind of… tried to shut down.

 

It was weird. Sure, he got headaches every now and then - who wouldn’t when you lived in this fucking family - but this… this was something different.

 

And then the strangest thing happened.

 

He went and pulled a fast 180 - he was on top of the world, running the obstacle course, when another guy bypassed him. And he tackled him and tried to beat the shit out of him. He went from feeling fine to feeling like he was gonna explode from anger if he didn’t get it out of his brain.

 

That had never happened.

 

Sure, ROTC could make you a little crazy, but it never made Ian that way - he always took it in stride. He was never one to let someone who was running faster get to him - he would just push himself harder because he knew he could do better.

 

Now though, something in him snapped. He felt this uncontrollable anger build up, and he ended up punching a tree, and fucking up his hand.

 

There went the rest of his weekend.

 

While he laid in the made-up infirmary, his hand bandaged, it began to feel like the walls were closing in on him, and his head was so heavy with darkness.

 

What the fuck was going on with him?

 

….

 

He couldn’t move.

 

His head was screaming, telling him all sorts of demented things, but he couldn’t move.

 

It was so dark.

 

What was wrong? What was going on? He screamed, but there was no sound coming out of his mouth.

 

He was so angry, so confused.

 

What. The. Fuck?

 

…

 

It lucked out that Mickey had been in the kitchen, watching Liam attempt to feed himself - and miss - when Fiona got the call.

 

“What? Ian got hurt? Is he okay? Is he- oh. Okay. I’ll get someone there to pick him up as soon as we can.” Mickey’s head had snapped up at the mention of Ian, and his heart sank - he was worried about this. Ian getting this way so fast… he had tried to help postpone it, but it didn’t work.

 

“I’ll get him,” Mickey said, already standing up and putting a jacket on. 

 

“And how will you get him?”

 

“You think I don’t know how to get a car? Calm down, it’s legal. I’ll be back.” 

 

Fiona didn’t even get a chance to argue before Mickey was out the door, on his way to get Ian.

…

 

Mickey knew what it was as soon as he was let into - okay, more like argued his way into - the little camp where Ian was. When he saw Ian, he felt like his heart stopped.

 

“Fuck, Gallagher,” he muttered as he walked up to his tall-as-fuck boyfriend, who was curled up in a ball on a cot, eyes squeezed shut.

 

Mickey wasn’t sure how to approach this - he had been down this road before with Ian, and he thought he could avoid it this time, but fuck, he couldn’t. This was a part of Ian, and Mickey knew that.

 

He also knew how to help him take care of it now though - he could be there, but fuck, it was still scary.

 

Maybe even scarier since he knew what was coming.

 

…

 

Ian was just slumped in the front seat as Mickey drove them home. Mickey’s heart was pounding - Ian had fallen much faster than he had before, but Mickey would get him the meds, and they’d be okay. He knew what to do this time around.

 

He could make sure Ian didn’t do anything… stupid, this time. And Mickey would take care of him.

 

Fuck, he hoped he fucking could.

  
  


…

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was up to everyone's expectations. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter!


End file.
